


i'm dancing in the dawn of the unknown

by Kody (saturated)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, First Time, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oh my god they were quarantined, Quarantine, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturated/pseuds/Kody
Summary: Eddie didn’t dare think about it.  He couldn’t.  Richie wasn’t his boyfriend and that was that.  It didn’t matter that they had been best friends since they were kids, went to college together, and now were sharing a tiny New York apartment because Eddie would never stand a chance with Richie anyway.  Richie was funny and smart and an absolute charmer.  He was going to be a famous comedian and what was Eddie doing?  Panicking at his office because of germs and turning in reports that his boss barely glanced at.---AU in which Eddie and Richie are quarantined in their apartment together
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 224





	i'm dancing in the dawn of the unknown

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is my coping mechanism lol
> 
> After hearing a few of those "we confessed our love" quarantine stories, I honestly couldn't help myself. I told my friends and they were my enablers and also provided a few ideas too lmao. You can thank them for this fic existing.
> 
> General TW for anyone who isn't dealing with quarantine well.  
> Also small TW for Sonia in general. (Eddie talks to her twice and it's prefaced that it's her beforehand)

Eddie was the first to start speculating when they would let everyone work from home. With the news of the superflu spreading faster and faster every day, Eddie started buying masks and gloves from the store, refusing to use public transportation and forcing Richie to drive him to and from work. Unfortunately for Richie, that meant getting up before noon.

“It’s like a flu,” Richie said the second day Eddie dragged him out of bed. “We just gotta let it run its course and then we’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Eddie remarked. “You’re not the one with asthma.”

It was rough at work. Eddie’s boss ignored his pleas to disinfect the office so Eddie was stuck at his cubicle, constantly wiping the surfaces and using hand sanitizer whenever necessary.

But it wasn’t as bad as at his apartment. Richie may have had his own room, but the clubs and venues he performed at were filled to the brim with germs and bacteria, prime locations for a deadly super virus to hide and bring itself home where Eddie could contract it.

Richie would sigh and wash his hands, hoping to please and ease Eddie’s anxieties, but Eddie would hear him talking to Bev or Stan or someone else on the phone at night, saying “I’m really worried about him.” It was those late nights that Eddie wished he could turn it off, let himself touch the rail of the subway, not wash his hands before eating, ignore a sneeze and write it off as allergies. But he couldn’t. He really, really couldn’t.

And then it happened. He and Richie were watching the news late on Sunday night, and Eddie had almost gone to bed but he decided to stay up just a little longer to hear whatever their governor had to say on the matter.

Quarantine.

He was there urging every person in the state of New York, and especially New York City, to stay in their homes unless necessary. Offices had begun to close, movie theaters and concert halls, restaurants and tourist attractions, and everything else under the sun.

And Eddie still had to go into work the next day.

He almost called in sick, but instead put on a mask and gloves, and braved the office. He got passing glances from a few coworkers, but nothing lingered too long. They all knew him well enough.

At his desk, he pulled the mask down to his chin, knowing his space was clean. He cleaned it himself after all.

His cubicle neighbor, Carl, whom he detested because he coughed often without covering his mouth, leaning over the wall.

“Nice getup, dude,” Carl said without a tone of humor about him.

“It’s a precaution,” Eddie said, turning his back to Carl, pretending to focus on his work.

“Hear we’re getting shut down today,” Carl said. “Working from home and all that because of this stupid quarantine.”

This perked Eddie up. He turned back to Carl slightly, and said, “Where’d you hear that?”

“All the managers are in a meeting,” Carl said, gesturing over his shoulder to the meeting room.

“Sounds possible,” Eddie mumbled, trying to get Carl off his back. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Hang out with your boyfriend all day?” Carl suggested. “Sounds nice for people like you but I have to go back to an empty apartment. This is all the social interaction I get all day.”

“I can tell,” Eddie quipped before processing the entire statement. “Wait, Richie isn’t my boyfriend.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “Coulda fooled me. He’s been driving you here and he brings you lunch all the time. Sure, looks like a boyfriend.”

Eddie didn’t dare think about it. He couldn’t. Richie wasn’t his boyfriend and that was that. It didn’t matter that they had been best friends since they were kids, went to college together, and now were sharing a tiny New York apartment because Eddie would never stand a chance with Richie anyway. Richie was funny and smart and an absolute charmer. He was going to be a famous comedian and what was Eddie doing? Panicking at his office because of germs and turning in reports that his boss barely glanced at.

Although there were times when Eddie thought he caught Richie staring at him, looking at him the way Eddie always looked back, but those were just thoughts. Nothing at all.

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie said with finality. “Doesn’t matter. We still have to work.”

Eddie turned to his computer, ignoring whatever Carl said next until he huffed and plopped back in his own seat in his own cubicle.

Eddie worked slowly that day, waiting impatiently for the meeting to get out, using the bathroom maybe a few too many times to check on the progress from the little window next to the door, but never catching more than the pensive face of the director or Karen from HR or hands shuffling some papers.

It was after lunch that Karen from HR went around with the memo, printed out like they didn’t all have work emails it could have been sent to in order to avoid the germ shuffle, but Eddie didn’t mention it when he saw the memo header.

It was an order for all nonessential employees to work from home, that they would be issued laptops at the end of the day and were required to continue working despite the quarantine, and luckily for Eddie, he was “nonessential”.

At the end of the day, Eddie packed up his things and met Richie out front, hopping into his car and taking off his mask once again.

“All my shows got cancelled,” Richie said solemnly. “So, I’m not making any money until this is over.”

Eddie had barely shut his door when Richie delivered this news, grimly, like someone had died. It probably felt like that to Richie who had been building his career from the ground up since they were in college, doing stand up open mic nights before getting a manager and working the small gigs he was doing now.

“All of them?” Eddie asked.

“Until May,” Richie said. “My fucking grandparents were gonna fly in for the one at the end of March and now they can’t.”

Richie had a tight grip on the steering wheel, still sitting in park as he spared a glance over at Eddie.

“Sorry,” Richie said. “How was work?”

“I’m working from home now,” Eddie said, catching Richie’s desire to talk about anything else. “They gave me a laptop and everything.”

“Good,” Richie said. “I know you were freaking out, so I’m glad you can stay home.”

Eddie nodded, knowing this mood. If he said anything out of place, trying to dig deep or get Richie to talk, Richie would snap. This was a mood that had to be eased through. Give him space and time, and he would talk, but on his own.

It was always on Richie’s time.

At home, Richie sulked off to his room, and Eddie got a call from his mother.

Eddie debated answering it, knowing it would be nothing but pleas for him to come home, that New York isn’t safe anymore, that he was bound to catch it, or worse, that  _ she  _ would catch it and end up in the hospital and then what would Eddie do? Either way, the outlook wasn’t good, but neither was not answering. That would likely lead to the police pounding on Eddie’s door in exactly 22 minutes because he knew firsthand that he shouldn’t miss a call from his mother.

He took a deep breath.

“Hi, Ma,” Eddie said.

“Have you seen the news?” Sonia practically screamed into the phone.

“Yes,” Eddie said, taking a seat at the dining table. “I know what’s happening. Don’t worry, I’m working from home indefinitely and all of Richie’s gigs are cancelled so there’s no reason either of us need to leave the apartment.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sonia said, “but I still think you need to do better than that. Derry is so isolated and there’s so few people here compared to New York. Maybe you should come home for a few weeks while this is happening.”

“I don’t have a car,” Eddie said. He used that excuse too often for it to be a genuine excuse anymore, but Sonia still bought it. “And besides, Ma, I’m fine if I stay in the apartment I know is clean because I cleaned it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Sonia asked. “I can send you the money for a train ticket and then for cab fare. I would rather know that you’re safe.”

“I’m 25, Ma,” Eddie said. “I think I know when I’m safe or not.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Sonia snapped. “I’m your mother and I’m only worried about you. Is it a crime for a mother to worry about her son?”

Eddie knew this was a losing battle, and, like every other conversation he had with her, he conceded.

“You’re right,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry. But I think it would be better for both of us if I stayed here. I don’t want to catch it from the train and give it to you.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s safe,” Sonia muttered, obviously not wanting to agree but also understanding the logic in Eddie’s statement. “But you will be calling me every day.”

Eddie sighed. “Of course.” He tried quickly to think of some excuse to get her off the phone or else she’d talk his ear off about her soaps for the next hour. “I have to go, Ma. I have to set up my computer from home to make sure it works.”

“Okay,” Sonia said sadly. “I’ll let you go then. And talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Eddie-bear.”

“Love you, too,” Eddie said quickly and hung up before she could say something else.

He sighed, yet again, and ran a hand through his hair before slamming his head down on the table. He thought about crying, but that wasn’t an emotion he was allowed to have right now. Instead, he got up, and disinfected everything from the kitchen to the dining room/living room area to the bathroom to his own bedroom.

He thought about knocking on Richie’s door. It had been over an hour since they got home and he was likely in a better mood by now, but Eddie didn’t want to bother him, not with his own problems when Richie was the one who’s entire life had been cancelled at the drop of a hat.

Eddie didn’t have a chance to decide for himself because the door swung open. Richie stood there in his disheveled clothes and hair, having been presumably napping or laying in bed. Eddie pretended that he didn’t notice the red around his eyes as he lifted the cleaner and rag in his gloved hands.

“Can I…?” Eddie said gesturing slightly towards Richie’s room.

“Whatever,” Richie said, brushing past him and shutting the door behind him in the bathroom. The shower turned on and Eddie figured he had about a half an hour to clean knowing Richie’s mood. Hopefully the shower would help.

Eddie took his time in Richie’s room, studying the posters and decorations like he had never seen them before. He had been in Richie’s room plenty of times before, so he didn’t know why today felt different, like the air had shifted, like something had turned and wouldn’t turn back.

He finished cleaning, and was putting away the cleaner under the sink when Richie got out of the shower and meandered into the kitchen wearing sweatpants and no shirt, and like every time he did that, Eddie had to stop himself from wondering when Richie’s shoulders got so broad, how thin and gangly he had been when they were teenagers, and how at some point he widened and it was…

Eddie didn’t let himself think about that.

“I’m sorry,” Richie said. “I’m upset that all my shows are cancelled, and I was being a baby about it.”

“You have a right to be sad,” Eddie said immediately, recalling something his therapist said often. “Your shows are important to you so you can be sad. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, but…” Richie tried to say. “You’re like, super anxious about all this and I don’t want to like, be me about it.”

“Be you,” Eddie repeated. “The most ‘you’ thing would have been to make a bad joke about it.”

“Bad?” Richie asked, a smile playing at his lips. “Tell me how you really feel, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie smiled back, a small pause while they looked at each other, and it was one of those moments that Eddie didn’t like to think about. Eddie seemed to have a lot of moments like that.

“You want me to go to the store?” Richie said after a second. “I can pick up some groceries since you’ll be here more. And I don’t want you to freak out more than you need to.”

“How sweet,” Eddie teased. “But you just showered, and I’d force you in there when you came back so maybe tomorrow, we can both brave the store.”

“Sounds like an adventure,” Richie winked and turned to go back to his room. As he walked down the hall, he pumped his fist in the air and shouted, “Huzzah! To the market we ride in early morning light!”

And again, Eddie ignored the way he watched with a grin on his face until Richie shut the door behind him.

* * *

Maybe the supermarket was a bad idea. Eddie thought he would be fine as he donned his mask and gloves, Richie walking in front of him as though that would guard any germs that came his way. There were too many people out. Didn’t they know they were supposed to stay home?

Although, Eddie was doing the opposite as well.

“You should have stayed home,” Richie remarked when Eddie stopped dead in his tracks as someone coughed near him. “I told you to give me a list.”

“You have no idea how to pick out peaches, Rich,” Eddie said, continuing forward through the store. He wouldn’t let it get to him, not if he was going to survive these next few weeks.

Richie wandered around, still remaining in sight but picking out some of his own groceries as well. They stocked up on fruits and vegetables and canned goods and cereal and everything else they thought they might run out of soon, and Eddie just about had a fit when there wasn’t any hand sanitizer left.

But he forced himself to calm down. They still had a bottle at home, and they would have to make do until he could get another one.

“C’mon, baby,” Richie said, noticing Eddie’s mood. “We’re fine. You don’t need to be staring down that old lady looking like you wanna fight her.”

Eddie didn’t realize he had been intently watching an elderly woman take some hand sanitizer from her bag and use it. He didn’t realize either that his brow was scrunched and relaxed it when Richie put a hand on his shoulder.

“I think,” Richie said slowly, “you’re gonna need a pick-me-up when we get home.” He finished by pulling two bottles of Jack Daniel’s out from behind his back, waving them in front of Eddie’s face before tossing them in the cart.

“It’s Tuesday,” Eddie said. “I have work tomorrow morning.”

“And you can show up in your underwear,” Richie rebuked, “because your office is the dining room table.”

“Feels a little unprofessional,” Eddie said smirking, although Richie didn’t know that.

“Feels a little like the end of the world,” Richie quipped. 

It was a joke, an obvious joke, but where was the humor in all this? Where was the humor in the mask Eddie wore or his heart racing as he heard someone cough or his mother calling constantly to make sure he was okay? Eddie couldn’t seem to find the humor in any of it.

“That’s not funny, Richie,” Eddie said, taking the cart and pushing it down the aisle and away from Richie.

“You’re right,” Richie said, catching up with him. “I’m sorry. I won’t make jokes about it if you don’t want me to.”

Eddie eyed him. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Yeah, but you mean it this time,” Richie said sincerely. “I can tell when you really don’t like something so I don’t wanna make you more scared than you already are.”

“Right,” Eddie said.

“And besides,” Richie continued, voice lightening, “there’s plenty of other things to joke about, like how I know your one true love is named Jack.”

“Jack Daniel’s?” Eddie suggested.

“Hell yeah, dude,” Richie said.

Eddie rolled his eyes, a gesture Richie could see and knew was harmless. He supposed the joke would have been funny if it was the first time he had heard it, and not the hundredth, but it was endearing, just like everything else about Richie, and suddenly Eddie was struck with the fact that the two of them would be spending a lot of time together, too much time that he couldn’t ignore that feeling, but he pushed on anyway, hoping it would go away.

* * *

Eddie hated working from home to say the least. He hated having to use a laptop rather than his monitor, and he hated being away from his desk and his things, and he hated knowing he was at home where he felt like he wasn’t supposed to work. He hated being able to go up to the fridge any time he wanted, and he hated having meetings over Skype.

And worst of all, he never thought he could hate Richie this much.

The first couple of days were fine. Richie was respectful of Eddie’s space at the dining room table, leaving him alone and staying in his room for most of the day. But, and Eddie didn’t know why he didn’t expect it, eventually Richie got bored, and bored Richie was never a thing Eddie liked dealing with.

By Friday of the first week, Eddie had found something of a groove, a schedule of when he could eat and take breaks now that he wasn’t being monitored by anyone. Unfortunately for him, that was the day that Richie decided he had had enough of quarantine and wanted something,  _ anything _ , to do. And this meant that all boundaries were out the window because when Richie was bored, everyone was going to hear about it.

He sat across the table from Eddie around noon, who was busy typing up his weekly report that wasn’t due till five and his boss probably wouldn’t read anyway. He leaned down, chin rested on the table, arms reaching forward and vaguely running his fingers along the edge of Eddie’s laptop.

“Can I help you?” Eddie said without looking up.

“I’m bored,” Richie said.

“You can write my report for me,” Eddie offered.

Richie sat up. “Can I? I’m dying for literally anything to do.”

Eddie hadn’t expected Richie to actually take up his offer. He had expected Richie to brush it off as a joke or offer something for Eddie to do in return. Eddie thought most people would have let him, but for as much as he hated his job sometimes, he liked doing it right.

But, fuck, Richie looked so pathetically bored. And it was the last thing he had to do for the day, anyway.

“You can read it when it’s done,” Richie said. “I need something other than watching Netflix all day.”

“Fine,” Eddie conceded. “But after this we have to come up with something for you to do.”

Richie pulled the laptop over to face him. “Like what? We’re trapped in the apartment for however the fuck long this lasts.”

“Use excel sheet 3-16,” Eddie said. “Like something creative. You’re a fucking artist, aren’t you? Figure it out.”

Richie started typing, faster than Eddie would have, and Eddie hoped that Richie was doing it right, not using flowery words, just the facts. Truth be told, the reports weren’t difficult or complex. They were boring necessities to keep record for the company.

“I’m an artist in the most figurative sense,” Richie said, not breaking stride. “I need work or else my mind goes fucking numb.”

“Then write a new routine or something,” Eddie suggested. “Or that sitcom pilot you always dreamed about.”

“Ever since The Good Place changed comedy forever, regular sitcoms are out,” Richie stated. “And where am I gonna perform a new routine? All the comedy clubs that are shut down?”

“Why are you being such a baby?” Eddie asked.

Richie didn’t answer, typing frantically, until a minute later he pushed the laptop back to Eddie.

“Your stupid report is done,” Richie said, getting up from the table and going to the kitchen. “You’ll have to check for spelling cause I suck at typing but it should be up to your precious standards.”

“Now you’re being an asshole,” Eddie said. Eddie checked through the report, skimming to make sure that everything was there and spelled correctly before hitting send.

Richie returned to the table with a can of Coke, claiming his seat across the table.

“You didn’t want to get me one?” Eddie asked.

“What’s the fucking point of doing anything if we’re stuck here?” Richie returned.

“What are you talking about?”

“You have your fucking job. I don’t. It’s that simple, Eddie.”

The realization dawned on Eddie that Richie wasn’t just bored, he was depressed. Every single one of his shows had been cancelled, everything he had worked years for was thrown away because of this quarantine, all the while Eddie kept going to work and keeping busy. It must have been hard to create while unsure of when anything would get better, as the numbers grew higher and higher every day, New York leading every other state.

“You still have fans, right?” Eddie asked. “On Twitter and shit? They’re stuck at home too.”

“So?”

“So,” Eddie continued. “They’re probably just as bored as you are.”

The gears turned behind Richie’s eyes as he pieced together what Eddie was saying. Eddie wasn’t quite sure what he was suggesting, only some vague push towards continuing to create, that his career wasn’t lost. Richie would have to come up with the finer details.

“Should I release a routine online?” Richie said.

Eddie shrugged. “If that’s what you want to do. Or stream to them. Or ask them what they want.”

“I doubt they’d care,” Richie said.

“Richard,” Eddie said, catching Richie’s full attention, “you have 8,000 Twitter followers and consistently sell out 100-seat shows. If they don’t want to see you do something online, then I don’t think they were ever your real fans.”

Richie bit his lip, thinking, contemplating whether it would be worth the heartbreak if no one cared. Eddie didn’t know what else to do to convince him. He thought that the girl that went up to Richie at the bar last weekend to talk to him about a show she saw back in November would have been enough, or the guy that wouldn’t leave him alone at the market last month because he kept trying out his joke, or even the man that Richie had been corresponding with about manager contract negotiations.

Richie was popular, maybe even famous in the Brooklyn area where they lived, and yet he had to consider whether or not people truly liked his comedy.

“Maybe,” Richie said. “I’ll think about it.”

“You better,” Eddie said, closing his laptop. “Because it’s officially the weekend and we have a list of movies on Netflix waiting for us.”

He moved over to the couch only a couple feet from the dining room table, sitting down and propping up his feet on the coffee table.

“I watched them all,” Richie said leaning over the back of the couch.

“If you watched Incredibles 2 without me,” Eddie said, “you’re dead to me.”

“Nope,” Richie said, popping the word. “I watched every single movie on Netflix, and you can’t do anything about it.” Richie smiled slyly, as if begging Eddie to do something about it.

“I oughta kill you, Trashmouth,” Eddie said as he turned on the TV.

“I’d like to see you try,” Richie taunted, grabbing the remote from Eddie and holding it over his head, taking a few steps back from the couch. “C’mon, Kaspbrak. Show me that growth spurt did you some good.”

Eddie hopped over the back of the couch and tried hopelessly to reach up and grab the remote from Richie’s outstretched hand. He knew he would never reach without a stool of some kind, but he jumped and reached, and Richie laughed, and Eddie supposed it must have been funny to watch. Even he thought it was funny until he became very aware of his chest against Richie’s, neither of them moving backwards anytime soon.

And then Eddie stopped jumping, stopped reaching, out of breath and smiling up at Richie who was slowly bringing the remote down. Richie’s smile began to fade, and Eddie knew he had him.

He did what he had to do.

Eddie began tickling Richie’s sides, and Richie immediately doubled over, bringing the remote down with him. Eddie quickly grabbed it and hopped back over the couch.

“You really thought you had me, huh?” Eddie said looking back over his shoulder.

“I, um, yeah,” Richie said, hand behind his head, face beet red. “Why don’t you find something while I go to the bathroom and then we can order a pizza or something? Alright, cool.”

Before Eddie could respond, Richie jetted off, closing the bathroom door behind him with a loud thud.

And now that Richie was gone, there was that phantom feeling on Eddie’s skin where Richie had been, the beating of his heart, the proximity of their faces, the look. And instead of checking on Richie, instead of saying something when he got back, Eddie put on some Netflix original horror movie that looked trashy and left it at that, ignoring the fact that Richie took much longer in the bathroom than normal and wouldn’t look Eddie in the eye when he came back.

* * *

“How are things holding up there?” Bill asked over the Facetime call he was on with Eddie. “You kill Richie yet?”

Bill had moved back to Maine after graduation, although choosing to stick to Portland rather than settling back in Derry. He claimed it was because he got a good job, and the rent would be cheap while he tried to write his great novel, but that novel was promised four years ago and Bill wasn’t any closer to finishing it. The only thing he was closer to, was convincing Mike, who still lived in Derry, to move out to California with him. Eddie knew if there was anyone that could get Mike to leave Derry, it was Bill.

“I’m close,” Eddie confesses as he mindlessly typed an email to his boss. “Either that, or I’m sure I’m going to explode with sexual frustration.”

“You talk like that with him in the apartment?”

“He’s out at the grocery store,” Eddie said.

“And you let him?” Bill said, raising his eyebrows and cracking a smile.

“He offers so I don’t have to,” Eddie said. He finished the email and leaned back in his chair, holding his phone directly in front of him rather than propping it against his laptop.

“And yet you still don’t th-think he’s into you?” Bill asked.

Eddie ran a hand through his hair. This was a conversation that he and Bill had far too often for his sanity to handle. Eddie had realized he was gay their sophomore year of college because he realized that Richie was attractive in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He told Bill, and Bill said that Richie probably felt the same, or at least that’s what it looked like.

But Richie had been that way since they were kids. Richie had always gravitated towards Eddie the same way he did towards Richie. They were best friends, inseparable, but that didn’t mean that Richie felt the same way in any regard.

“Are we really having this conversation,” Eddie said, “when you and Mike are in the same spot you’ve been in for years?”

Bill’s mouth snapped shut.

“I don’t know why you don’t ask him to move with you already,” Eddie continued. “You’ve been dating for five years and you guys went from practically living together in college to living in different cities an hour away from each other. What are you waiting for?”

Bill sighed. “Any indication that he wants to commit to me like that. He moved back to Derry after I t-tuh-told him I could never go back there. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to him?”

“Like you talk to Richie?”

“Point taken,” Eddie said as the apartment door opened.

Richie toted in a few bags of groceries and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Wash your hands!” Eddie called through the opening in the wall to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir!” Richie said as he turned on the sink. “And say hi to Billy for me.”

Bill returned the hello, and looked at Eddie as though there was something he ought to be doing.

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Eddie said, glancing over at Richie unpacking the groceries. There was something so simple about it, the act of watching him keep up their home, that sometimes it was easy for Eddie to forget they weren’t dating, that Richie was only his best friend, only his roommate, that all those moments where Eddie thought that maybe there was something there were nothing but moments.

“I’m just going to say goodbye, Eddie,” Bill said. “You know what you need to do.”

* * *

_ @RichTozier _ on Twitter said:

“im bored youre bored what should i do for you all to make this a tiny fucking bit easier”

_ @slappypappy _ replied saying:

“I was going to see your show at the Fat Platter next week, and I know all your upcoming shows are cancelled so maybe you could release the routine??? If not for everyone, at least for the people who bought tickets.”

_ @HarleyQunzel _ replied saying:

“how about that musical talent you keep boasting *eyes emoji*”

_ @gregoryturner _ replied saying:

“I took my son to see your show last month and you are VERY crude and INAPPROPRIATE. Please issue an apology to me and my son for wasting our time.”

_ @NikkolaRox  _ replied saying:

“HOUSE TOUR HOUSE TOUR HOUSE TOUR HOUSE TOUR HOUSE TOUR”

_ @ekaspbrak _ replied saying:

“take out the trash for once in your fucking life”

Instead of working like he was supposed to be doing, Eddie watched Twitter as a few replies began coming in, giving Richie something to do while trapped in the apartment. It was Wednesday by now, and Eddie thought he had waited way too long to post this, but Richie was always insecure about the way he was perceived. He was probably working up the courage to post something that wasn’t just a meaningless joke or promotion of a new show.

And Eddie couldn’t help himself. He had to comment. He had to get his word in and say something funny to gripe on Richie about something he had already promised to do.

“You’re not my mom,” Richie had responded, to which a few of his followers replied with either keysmashes or “lol”s or that one person who asked if they were roommates.

Maybe it felt good when Eddie replied with “Unfortunately” and then, over the course of an hour, had 30 new followers. Maybe he could see what was so appealing about the limelight that Richie was in, and maybe he could also see why it was so scary sometimes, now that Eddie felt a sudden urge to be funny or engaging to keep these people around that he didn’t even care that much about.

Like a good entertainer, Richie began checking off the list. He had Eddie help him film his routine, and Eddie had to try hard not to laugh and ruin the take, although some bits didn’t have the same ring without a live audience.

“How was that?” Richie asked when he was done.

“Boring,” Eddie said. “Worst hour of my life.”

“Is that why you had your hand over your mouth the whole time?” Richie asked, poking Eddie in the stomach. “Cause it looked like you were trying not to laugh.”

“More like holding in my vomit,” Eddie teased.

Richie laughed and Eddie tried not to stare as he thought of being trapped in the apartment with him for an indefinite amount of time, daring not to think about what Bill suggested.

_ @RichTozier _ linked a video:

“here’s that routine, free to watch and enjoy. apparently  _ @ekaspbrak _ was trying not to vomit the whole time so send him your vomit bags”

Eddie got three DMs that day asking if he hated Richie as much as it looked like, four saying they were shipping a vomit bag and it should be there soon, and one asking if they were flirting over Twitter. Eddie didn’t answer any of them.

Next on the list was musical talent, which Richie had plenty of but was often insecure about showing off. He admitted to Eddie before filming that he had been writing a few comedy songs, testing the waters to see what he could do, but decided instead to cover a few songs from Ninja Sex Party and Flight of the Conchords.

Eddie was one of the few people who had ever heard Richie’s singing and guitar playing, and Richie never gave himself enough credit. He tried to play off what he could do by singing comedy songs, but Richie never believed he was good enough for more serious and soulful songs, which Eddie thought was always a shame.

“As much as your fans would love your rendition of ‘Heart Boner’”, Eddie started when he shut the camera off. “I think you could really give them something else. Something really good.”

“Was that not good?” Richie asked, eyes filling with anxiety.

“I’m not saying that,” Eddie quickly corrected. “I think you were great, but you don’t have to keep doing comedy songs if you think there’s another song you want to sing.”

“Nah,” Richie said waving a hand dismissively. “They follow me for comedy so that’s what I’ll give them. Not a big deal.”

“Then why does your favorite band in the world, Ninja Sex Party, have two cover albums that have just as many purchases as their comedy music?” Eddie had to admit his knowledge of one of Richie’s favorite bands was finally coming in handy. Richie had ranted about them and forced Eddie to listen so many times that it had to be for something.

Richie shrugged. “Dunno.” He took his phone back from Eddie, not saying anything else, and went to his room, shutting the door behind him.

_ @RichTozier _ linked a video:

“you guys didn’t believe me but here i am and  _ @ekaspbrak _ is practically swooning behind the camera”

Eddie got only two DMs that day, one asking if they were roommates or “roommates”, and the other asking for feet pictures. Eddie shut off his DMs.

Richie skipped the third thing on the list.

_ @RichTozier  _ tweeted:

“insta live at 5pm est today because for some reason you want a house tour because you think i live in a mansion and not a tiny apartment in nyc”

Eddie had been patient with Richie’s stunts, helping him through the week, wishing that he could care that it was Sunday evening, wishing that time meant anything anymore. He had to work tomorrow because work was still a thing, but none of it mattered. Eddie would pull himself out of bed with enough time to make coffee, login to Skype in time for the morning meeting, and when that was over, he managed to stretch an hour of work into eight hours.

He should have been happy to help Richie with his tasks, but all Eddie seemed to feel was annoyed that Richie seemed to be finding his groove with being stuck in the apartment, while Eddie felt like he was falling apart.

Eddie held Richie’s phone, counting down the time until he was supposed to go live.

“You’re making me dinner for doing this, right?” Eddie asked Richie who was fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror.

“I make you dinner all the time,” Richie replied. “I don’t know how this is different.”

“Correction,” Eddie said as Richie came out to stand in front of the door, “you’re making me a  _ gourmet  _ dinner, right?”

“Gourmet is subjective, my dear sweet Eds. Kraft mac and cheese is gourmet to a homeless guy.”

“Lucky for me, we’re not homeless,” Eddie said. “Are you gonna mention me behind the camera like you’ve been doing? Your fans keep flooding my DMs with bullshit.”

Richie let out a laugh. “Good for them.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, remembering the very specific asks about their relationship, wondering if it had really been obvious flirting or if they were just like that, just best friends.

“Like what?” Richie asked. “Are they accusing us of flirting over Twitter? I get at least ten messages a day about that.”

“And you don’t turn off your DMs?” Eddie asked, confused. Two days was more than enough for him. He didn’t need people digging into his life trying to figure out things that he had spent years trying to hide.

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Richie shrugged.

_ Of course, it doesn’t mean anything. _ How could Eddie have been so stupid? It never meant anything.

“It’s five,” Eddie said, holding up the phone and going live on Instagram, effectively dropping whatever weird conversation they had started.

Richie greeted his fans, the hundred or so people who immediately tuned in to watch him because they presumably, like him, had absolutely nothing better to do with their time. Things went well for a short time as Richie cracked some jokes about their front door and about the dining table and about the living room, none of which were all that interesting but the likes and comments kept rolling in.

Eddie would throw out a question he saw if he thought it was interesting or would yield some funny quip from Richie (examples included “that table looks like no one sits at it” and “what do you like to watch on Netflix?” and “can someone leak Richie Tozier’s personal wardrobe designer?”, the last one in response to his bright orange t-shirt, purple sweatpants, and rainbow socks).

It wasn’t until they stepped into the kitchen that Eddie hated being the cameraman. Richie had cornered himself in there, and instead of waiting for Eddie to back out, he squeezed past him, not only causing Eddie to nearly drop the phone when his heart skipped, but also because the chat erupted into comments of asking exactly how tall Richie was.

“The fans want to know,” Eddie said dejectedly as they stood in the hallway.

“More like they want to know how short you are,” Richie said.

“I’m not that short,” Eddie said.

“I’m 6’ 2” for the viewers out there,” Richie pointed to the camera, and then grabbed the phone from Eddie before he could protest. He turned it on Eddie who quickly covered his face with his hands. “Not  _ that  _ tall, but Edward here is only 5’ 9”. A tiny, baby boy.”

Eddie took his hands away from his face. “I’m average size,” he said a little too angrily.

Richie laughed. “Don’t look now, Eds, but the chat loves you.” He began reading the comments as they came in. “‘He’s really cute.’ ‘Angry, short guys are my type.’ ‘Richie Tozier is one lucky fucker if that’s his roommate.’ ‘I stan the little twunk.’”

“Twunk?” Eddie questioned.

“It’s a mix between a twink and a hunk,” Richie explained, still focusing the camera on Eddie. “The breeds of gay men.”

Eddie snatched the phone from Richie’s hand and turned it back on him. “Breeds? Sounds like we’re fucking animals.” He paused. “What do they mean?” he asked quietly, as if the chat wouldn’t hear, but he knew they did when immediately came a series of people responding with key smashes and “oh, sweet summer child”.

“A twink is a little baby gay guy with a high voice like the stereotype,” Richie explained. “And a hunk is a buff hairless gay guy. When you’re a twunk, which you are, you’re tiny and cute, but also could probably deadlift twice your bodyweight.”

“But I _ can _ deadlift twice my bodyweight,” Eddie said, still confused. “My best is 275.”

“That’s what makes you a twunk, baby.”

Eddie ignored the comments rolling in repeating the word “baby” over and over again, as though it was supposed to mean something. He ignored the one person that asked if they were dating, and the other that said they seemed cute together.

“Then what are you?” Eddie teased Richie. “There’s more than two types of gay people, aren’t there.”

“When did this become a queer history lesson in our hallway?”

“Should we let your fans decide?”

The comments came pouring in, almost all of them in agreement. But Eddie wanted Richie’s input first.

“Come on, Richard,” Eddie said. (“RICHARD” “ _ Richard”  _ “when will I find a love like Richard’s” said the chat) “What are you?” Eddie finished with a smug grin as Richie stuttered over what to say next.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Richie said, scratching his head.

“Well, the chat has,” Eddie said. “They think you’re a twink.” He paused to read a comment. “Unless there’s more hair under that t-shirt than they know about, says caramel_popcorn12.”

“I guess that’s for me to know,” Richie said winking at the camera, “and for them to find out in two to five years when I model for the cover of GQ.”

“Two to five years?” Eddie echoed. He tried to joke off the idea of Richie’s fan arguing in the chat over how much hair Richie would have on his body when Eddie had seen him shirtless, seen him in his underwear, and knew exactly who was right. But he couldn’t feed into that for his own sanity. He didn’t need to give them anything more to go off of if it meant trying to forget he was enamored with Richie and stuck in a 1000 square foot apartment with him. “Giving yourself a lot of credit there, dude.”

“Ouch,” Richie said. “Right in the ego.”

And with that, the conversation was done, and Richie moved on to dramatically showing off the bathroom.

It took over an hour to finish the live stream, and when it was done, Richie apologized.

“Sorry, if that was weird,” Richie said, taking his phone back from Eddie. “Like, the whole twunk thing. And um, them about me, too.”

“Oh,” Eddie said. “Y-yeah, it’s fine.” It wasn’t Richie’s fault, but it wasn’t fine. Eddie wasn’t going to be able to think about Richie’s body all night, the very same body that his fans were talking about in the chat earlier.

He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about the debate over how hairy Richie was, and how it was perfect for Eddie that he had enough to stare at, to remember after Richie finally put on a shirt after his showers, but not so much that it felt gross and unclean. Eddie wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about how it flowed over his chest and down his stomach, trailing into his boxers or sweatpants, away from Eddie’s eyes but not his imagination.

It definitely wasn’t fine.

“You sure?” Richie asked. “Because you seemed kinda weird after that.”

“Not a big deal,” Eddie insisted. “You know I’m still weird about being gay in public.”

“Right,” Richie said, still not convinced. “Of course.”

Richie kept looking at Eddie, holding his gaze, obviously still concerned but also with the mix of another emotion that Eddie couldn’t read. He looked down to avoid Richie’s eye. He didn’t want Richie to study him, to know what he was thinking. He looked down at the floor, only now noticing how his toes were just barely touching Richie’s, wondering when they stood so close to each other without thinking about it.

Richie was the one that took a step back, and Eddie almost hated it. He looked back up to see Richie’s face growing red.

“How about that gourmet meal I owe you?” Richie asked.

“How about you just buy me take out?” Eddie suggested. “Maybe from the Chinese place across the street?”

Richie smiled softly. “Anything for you, Eds. My tiny, angry twunk.”

“Better sleep with one eye open, Rich,” Eddie said playfully, “if you keep calling me that.”

“Wow,” Richie said, raising his eyebrows. “You could get some people really hard if you keep talking like that.”

Eddie knew it was a joke. Eddie knew it didn’t mean anything. “Like your fans? The ones that say twunks are their type?”

Richie winked, clicking his tongue and giving a finger gun. “You know it, amigo.” He went to the front door and slipped his shoes on. “Give me 15 and I’ll be back with dinner.” And he left.

And instead of sitting on the couch to find something to watch, or getting out plates to get ready for dinner, Eddie went to the bathroom and thought about Richie and his hair and his body and the proximity and  _ the wink _ , and it took him only half of the 15 minutes to get off.

In the five years of knowing how he felt about Richie, he always felt weird about doing that, ignoring his thoughts, his urges because he grew up not thinking he was allowed to have them, pretending he was masturbating to celebrities or models or literally anyone else besides Richie, but not today. And when Richie returned, Eddie didn’t look him in the eye for the rest of the night.

* * *

“I really don’t understand what the fuss is about,” Eddie’s boss, a portly middle-age man named Tobias Dahl, said over Skype, his forehead and eyes the only things visible in his camera view because he was leaning in to see because he couldn’t find his glasses. “This would all be so much easier from the office.”

“You’re right, sir,” his kiss-ass assistant said. She had put on a full suit to join the call and Eddie detested her for it. He barely had enough energy anymore to put on a clean shirt for the day.

“Kaspbrak,” Mr. Dahl said, snapping Eddie back into the Monday morning meeting. “Can you come into the office for a few hours tomorrow? I need some things filed and delivered.”

Eddie hadn’t left the apartment since he and Richie went grocery shopping the first day. He did home workouts in the living room to keep fit and sat on their balcony to get fresh air. He didn’t have a need to leave nor did he want one. He knew his boss was still going into the office, as were a few IT guys and a couple departmental managers, but that was still too many people, too many possibilities of contracting something that Eddie didn’t want to risk.

“Can they not get done remotely?” Eddie asked gingerly. “Or by someone else?”

“You know, Kaspbrak,” Mr. Dahl said in the voice that Eddie knew was leading to a lecture, the last thing he wanted while in a meeting with ten other coworkers, “I put up with a lot of your germ bullshit because you’re a good worker, but I need this done and I need you to do it.”

“R-right,” Eddie said. “Of course.” It was then that Richie walked in, yawning and in his sweatpants, eyeing Eddie because he could hear what was happening.

“Good,” Mr. Dahl said. “I’ll see you at 8 tomorrow. You can leave by lunch. Now, this week’s numbers. Hallman, take over.”

Eddie’s co-workers took over the rest of the meeting and he could barely pay attention. How could he go in the next day when New York had the highest numbers out of any state? The most tightly packed city in the country and Eddie had to brave the subway and go to work when he couldn’t even step out onto the sidewalk in front of his building.

Eddie had hardly heard when the meeting ended and the Skype call closed. He had hardly noticed when Richie sat at the table opposite him, reaching forward and taking his hands and holding them like this was something they always did. They used to hold hands when they were kids, but then they grew up. They weren’t supposed to hold hands anymore because it meant something, but for the life of him, Eddie couldn’t remember what it meant. The only thing he could feel was the comfort that Richie was providing.

“Do you really have to go in tomorrow?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded.

“You shouldn’t let your boss push you around like that.”

“What else can I do?” Eddie said glumly. “I need this job. I need to make money somehow, and he’s kind of right. I can’t even go outside because of everything and I hate it. And you’re being way too nice about it.”

“Do you want me to force you to go outside?” Richie said.

“Kinda.”

Richie studied him for a moment, and then closed Eddie’s laptop. “Get up. We’re going outside.”

Panic surged through Eddie. “Right now?”

“No time like the present,” Richie said. “Get up, get a mask if you want one, and let’s go.”

Eddie stood up slowly, unsure of himself. “I – I have to work.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “You and I both know you barely do any work. Let’s go.”

Eddie didn’t want to, but he did too. He didn’t want to be scared of things anymore, at least not the way that he was. He wanted to be scared of things that normal people were scared of, like death and clowns and taxes. He didn’t want to be scared of the outside or going to work or getting sick, not anymore.

But he still couldn’t help it when he grabbed a mask from under the sink before stepping out and making Richie touch all the doors and lead the way.

Richie stepped outside first, holding the door for Eddie who stood there, staring, hoping the outside would give him any reason at all to turn back around and go back to the apartment. But nothing happened. Nothing but a few people walking by here and there, a few wearing masks like him, or scarves over their faces, or some wearing nothing. But they were just people. Richie went outside once or twice a week, so why couldn’t he?

Eddie ventured one step outside, and then another and another until he stood at the edge of the sidewalk next to the street.

There were less cars on the street, although in typical New Yorker fashion, there was still someone honking their horn about a block down.

“Not so bad, is it?” Richie asked as he stood next to Eddie.

“How long do I have to stand out here?” Eddie said.

Richie smiled. “We can go back in if you want.”

“You know me so well,” Eddie returned.

“Why do you work that shitty job, anyway?” Richie asked, not making any move to lead Eddie back inside.

“I majored in business and I need a job,” Eddie said like it was obvious.

“But you hate your job.”

“So?” Eddie wasn’t a fan of the third degree he was getting right now. He wouldn’t have been a fan of it even if they were inside, but because they were outside, it was that much more annoying. “A lot of people hate their job, Richie.”

“I never thought you would, though,” Richie said almost sadly. “When I pictured us living in New York together, I always thought we would be living the dream. We would be happy here, finally out of Derry and in the city like we always dreamed.”

Eddie remembered that dream. When they were kids, they would talk about the city, never any particular city because all cities were the same when they were little, but as they grew up, the nameless city turned into New York more and more with each day until they were 17 and applying to NYU together because they couldn’t dare to be apart. Their friends all went their separate ways and that was fine for them, but Eddie and Richie couldn’t bear to lose each other.

They made New York their home and built their dream of the perfect life here. Richie built his comedy career over the years and Eddie built his safety net, something that would save him from ever having to go back home again. Richie was always lucky like that, Eddie thought. Richie could ask his parents for money, Richie could go home and come back unscathed, Richie could go weeks without calling and not have the police called on him.

Eddie needed that safety. He didn’t have the luxury of falling because the minute he did, his mother would be there to pick him up and take him home, destroying even the smallest part of their New York dream. He needed to work a safe job because there was no other option.

“You know it’s not that easy, Rich,” Eddie said. “But, I feel like my heart is going to explode so can we go inside.”

“Yeah, alright,” Richie said, starting back in. “But we’re not done here.”

Eddie had every right to believe that Richie wanted to continue that conversation when they returned to the apartment, but Eddie had three unanswered and urgent emails from his boss. Richie would have to wait. He promised later, after work, and Richie made him pinky promise, something Eddie rolled his eyes at because they weren’t twelve anymore, but he did it because despite thinking it was juvenile, he would abide by it.

Mr. Dahl ensured that Eddie was working that day, sending him lists and documents required for the next day when he would have to go in, all the while, Richie sat on the couch watching TV, flipping through the channels but never deciding on one for very long.

Eddie couldn’t even get mad or notice because he was so busy.

Five o’ clock came around, Eddie’s usual quitting time, when another email came from his boss, asking him to do something that would likely require an hour of his time, if not longer, to be completed by morning, and Eddie understood what Richie meant earlier.

This wasn’t his dream. This was nowhere close to his dream.

“I quit,” Eddie whispered to himself as he finished reading the email.

Richie looked over at him from his spot on the couch. “What’s that, Eds?”

“I fucking quit,” Eddie said louder, slamming his laptop shut. “This stupid fucking job and my stupid fucking boss. You know what I realized, Rich? I’ve never been happy in my entire fucking life. I mean, I almost was when we were in college, but that ended the minute I got that stupid fucking job with that stupid fucking boss that treats me like shit.”

Richie sat straight up. “Are - are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, do you really want to or are you just pissed?”

“I took that job,” Eddie said, cooling down, “because I needed a job. I needed money so I could justify to my mom why I wasn’t moving back home after graduation.” Eddie opened his laptop, and opened his email, beginning a formal resignation. “But I’m an adult, and she can’t make me come home. And I have a savings account that I’ve never touched. I - I think I’ll be fine.”

Richie stared at him for only a second before getting up and going to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses, and the bottle of Jack Daniel’s they had on the counter. He sat at the table with Eddie and poured each of them a glass.

“I think you’ll need it tonight,” Richie said.

Eddie took his glass, threw it back, and finished writing his email.

* * *

They drank and watched movies mindlessly, Richie ignoring the promise he forced Eddie to make to talk about his problems, although Eddie assumed he had already talked about them enough.

Apparently not because late into the night, when Eddie was pleasantly tipsy and senses were a little altered, Richie turned to him at the end of their movie and asked, “What do you mean you’ve never been happy?”

That was a loaded question that Eddie thought if he was any drunker, he wouldn’t have been able to answer, but right now he was just drunk enough that he didn’t think anything of it. He and Richie had been having deep conversations these days after running low on pointless topics and boring work stories.

“Exactly what I said,” Eddie answered.

“Yeah, but --”

“But what?” Eddie said. “My mom sucks. Derry sucks. And I was almost free of everything when we were in college, so I felt good and almost okay, but there was still something missing. Things got better when I realized I was gay, but there was still something. And then I took that stupid job and now here I am, going through a midlife crisis at 25. I haven’t even been with a guy, either, like what the fuck kind of gay am I? I don’t even know what the fuck I even want anymore.”

“Maybe,” Richie started, “that something you were missing was a purpose. We all have a purpose.”

“I guess,” Eddie said. “Your’s is entertaining people, right?”

Richie smiled to himself. “Making the people laugh. Life sucks and it’s my job to make it suck a little less, just like my favorite comedians did for me.”

Eddie smiled back. Richie always had a way of making things sound nice and appealing, of convincing people that things were better than they were, whether through humor, or when he was being genuine, through a natural need to make people happy. Although, Eddie knew that was part of Richie’s own sadness.

“Maybe we can find your purpose,” Richie said, finishing the drink he had and then turning his body towards Eddie on the couch.

Eddie mirrored Richie in both the drink and his body.

“Okay,” Richie held up his hands as though framing Eddie in his mind. “What do you like?”

“Movies, comic books, your cooking, you,” Eddie started listing. He was rambling and had no idea where his thoughts were leading him.

“Try school,” Richie said. “What was your favorite subject?”

Eddie scrunched his nose. “I always liked dissecting things. Not the way you did that time you ripped the frog in half, but like, when we did it for real.”

“You could be one of those fucking guys that does autopsies,” Richie said with finality.

Eddie laughed. “That’s stupid. I hate dead things.”

“Then be a fucking doctor,” Richie said touching his finger to Eddie’s nose. “They’re still alive when you’re rooting around in their guts.”

Richie said it like it was a joke, but Eddie thought he was onto something. Eddie was always fascinated by the human body and modern medicine. And he always liked working with people on a personal level. But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be a doctor. That sounded like too much responsibility.

But a nurse? That was more doable for him.

“You’re a genius, Richie,” Eddie said.

“I feel like I’ve said that before,” Richie responded.

At some point, like all points, Eddie realized how close they had gotten, their knees bumping on the couch, Eddie’s arm slung over the back and his fingers tracing absent circles on Richie’s shoulder, Richie’s hands laying lightly near Eddie’s thigh, gently grazing it, his bare legs because he was wearing shorts, as if testing the waters

Their faces were barely a foot apart, and Richie seemed to realize this at the same time as Eddie because his smile faded when they locked eyes.

Maybe it was all that talk of missing something or the adrenaline from quitting his job or the alcohol in his veins, but something made Eddie do it.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Eddie said.

“Okay,” Richie said, barely audible.

Eddie didn’t need him to repeat himself. He surged forward, claiming Richie’s lips with his own. Eddie had only kissed a handful of people before this, all of which had been girls, and he liked it, but there was something about Richie, something about the course stubble on his face, something about the leftover taste of Jack’s, something about the uncoordinated nature of it all that Eddie couldn’t get enough of.

Richie moved a hand to the back of Eddie’s neck, holding him in as their lips moved together in sync, like they both knew that Richie was the “something” Eddie was missing all along, like Eddie was what Richie was missing too.

Eddie moved his hands to the back of Richie’s head, desperate to weave his fingers into Richie’s hair like he hadn’t been able to before. Eddie couldn’t help himself when he tugged on Richie’s hair a little, eliciting a small moan from him, keeping their lips together.

From there, it became a mash of tongue and teeth as Eddie craved more and more of Richie, desperate for everything Richie had to offer, so he took a chance.

Eddie pulled back only for a second to push Richie back against the couch and straddle him. He caught a smug grin from Richie before reclaiming his mouth, tugging and pulling at Richie’s hair while Richie’s hands found their way under Eddie’s shirt. Eddie should have been scared, terrified of going too far, doing too much and regretting it later, but Richie tasted so good, and happiness never felt so close.

Richie grew hard as Eddie grinded against him in his lap and another, louder moan escaped him.

Eddie moved to kiss Richie’s neck, slowly working his way around, finding the best spot to bite and gnaw as Richie kept making those sounds that were getting Eddie just as hard as Richie.

“God, Eds,” Richie moaned.

Eddie pulled back to look at Richie who looked absolutely dazed, although Eddie probably didn’t look any better.

Eddie kissed him slow and deep, and Richie dug his nails into Eddie’s back.

There was a second, a split second, when Eddie thought they should stop and talk about this before they regretted it, but then Richie did something unexpected, hooking his hands under Eddie’s legs and lifting him up, throwing him back on the couch to hover over him, to move from sitting up to laying down. Now, Richie was on top, pressing his body down onto Eddie, pressed between his legs, kissing and kissing and kissing him.

Eddie had forgotten what he was thinking about, choosing only to think about Richie’s weight on him, hooking his legs around Richie’s middle, thinking about Richie’s hard-on pressed against his own, knowing that he was the one to get him like that. Eddie wanted more.

He moved his hands under Richie’s shirt while Richie continued to kiss him, pulling up until Richie got the memo and took it off, tossing it to the side.

Eddie couldn’t believe he was allowed to look now at the  _ perfect amount of hair _ on Richie’s perfect body. His wide shoulders and his lean frame, although this past year he had started to gain the weight he never did in high school. Eddie’s hands found their way to his shoulders, slowly feeling his skin, studying him because now he had permission.

Richie leaned back down, slowly lifting up Eddie’s shirt, kissing his stomach and chest as he undressed him. Eddie squirmed out of his shirt, and let Richie kiss him, mouth at him all over. Eddie was sure Richie was leaving marks all over his chest, but he didn’t care because no one but Eddie would see them. He didn’t even have to worry about a mark on his neck because he had quit his job.

A decision he made in haste. A decision he made in anger and frustration.

Just like this.

Eddie was drunk and tired and lonely and horny, and Richie was there. Eddie would have let anyone feel him up these past couple days if it meant anything outside of his routine, and he had to imagine that Richie would feel the same. There was no way to ensure this was real. It probably wasn’t anything more than just that, two horny people who were attracted to each other releasing their sexual energy.

And suddenly this wasn’t fun anymore. Eddie didn’t want sex, he wanted Richie, all of him, not just his body but his love, and he wasn’t sure if Richie wanted all of that too.

“Wait,” Eddie said, trying to sit up.

Richie reacted by scooting back to the other end of the couch, throwing up his hands. “What’s wrong?”

It was such a genuine and heartfelt reaction that Eddie felt bad for stopping him. They could have gone through with it. Would it have been so bad to have sex and never talk about it again? Eddie wouldn’t have minded his first time being with Richie, even if nothing ever came of it. He had always trusted Richie with his life, and he would have trusted Richie with this, but that was over because Eddie had stopped it. Richie knew Eddie was scared now. He wouldn’t want to keep going.

Something about that embarrassed Eddie to his very core, and instead of talking to Richie like he knew he ought to, he ran to his room and shut the door, ignoring Richie’s knocks a few minutes later to check on him. When Eddie didn’t answer, Richie went to his own room, and Eddie felt like the worst person alive.

* * *

Eddie woke up with a hangover, a throbbing in his head that wouldn’t leave accompanied by a strange stomach ache that culminated in wanting to both eat something and throw up at the same time. What didn’t help was the smell of eggs and bacon wafting in from the kitchen despite his door being closed.

Richie was awake. Richie was awake and there was nowhere to run to. Eddie didn’t have work any longer, and had nowhere to go. He was stuck, anticipating and dreading the talk that they would have to have about the previous night.

For a second, Eddie thought he could wait it out, that Richie would make himself breakfast and then return to his room for the rest of the day, and Eddie would be able to sneak out and grab some food for himself. But that was a stupid thought. Richie was more inclined to hang out in the living room despite the circumstances, and now that there was a conversation to be had, especially when Eddie was at fault, Richie would be there, waiting. 

Richie wasn’t normally one for talking about this, but when Eddie was in the wrong, Richie could handle it.

And Eddie had to admit he kind of wanted to address things too.

But the least Richie could grant him was a shower before they talked. Eddie grabbed a change of clothes before jetting across the hall into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it before Richie had a chance to see him. Another 20 minutes was all he needed.

Eddie took his time, working out exactly what he wanted to say. He wasn’t even fully sure why he panicked the way that he did, but hopefully something would come to him if he just started talking.

He showered and dressed and left the bathroom, slowly stepping out into the living room, catching Richie’s eye as he scrolled through his phone while eating breakfast.

“How’s the hangover?” Richie asked, returning his attention to his phone.

“Awful,” Eddie said, claiming his usual seat at the table.

“I can tell,” Richie said without any emotion. “You slept in later than I did.”

“Don’t you wanna talk?” Eddie asked point blank. Richie always had a knack for talking around the problem.

“About what?”

Eddie looked at him for a second as he finished his breakfast, not saying another word. His eyes found their way down Richie’s neck to where the hickey he left from the night before peeked out from beneath his shirt collar.

“Forget it,” Eddie said.

“No,” Richie said. “You wanna talk then let’s fucking talk. I’ll go first. I don’t give a shit if you’re scared or whatever, but you can’t just run out like that because what the fuck am I supposed to think about that? That I’m fucking worthless? Stupid and bad and ugly like all the fucking assholes told me I was growing up?”

Richie stood up. “Yeah, you’re right. Fuck this.”

“Stop,” Eddie said standing with him. Knowing exactly how he hurt Richie didn’t help him figure out what to say in the slightest, but he could at least start with an apology. “I didn’t ever want to make you feel like that.”

Richie crossed his arms. “But you did.” He sighed. “You know, when you ran to your room, I sat right there on that fucking couch and cried because I thought I did something wrong.”

“I cried, too,” Eddie said. “I’m sorry. You’re right that I’m scared and I don’t even know what I’m scared of. I think...maybe...that I’m not good enough for you. Or that it didn’t mean the same thing you did to me.”

“I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen,” Richie said so quickly that Eddie almost didn’t catch it. Richie’s face grew very red. “That’s what it meant to me.”

Maybe Eddie didn’t need to know exactly what scared him because it didn’t matter. Richie was in love with him. He confessed and things would be okay as long as Eddie returned the feelings, and he did. He had for years, maybe even as long as Richie had, somewhere deep in his subconscious. They could figure out his fears together, work through whatever weird feelings Eddie had surrounding intimacy and sex and whatever other things came with being together. They could take things slow and figure things out and it would be good.

All Eddie had to do was say it back.

“Richie,” Eddie said, “I --”

He was cut off abruptly by his phone ringing. He would have let it ring, but when he saw his mother on the caller ID, he knew that would be the worst decision he had ever made, even worse than running away from Richie the night before.

Eddie grabbed his phone. “My mom.”

“It’s fine,” Richie said. “Better answer it before she comes here herself to get you.”

Eddie went to answer his phone, but paused a second before doing so, not knowing how long this would take.

“I’m in love with you, too,” Eddie said to Richie. “Just so you know.”

After catching Richie’s soft smile, Eddie stepped aside and answered the call from his mother, who immediately launched into her usual tirade about the news and disease and safety and whatever the fuck else she was using to try and get Eddie to go back to Derry.

“They’re saying New York has the highest rates,” Sonia said in a frantic tone. “The city is crawling with disease and people are dying, Eddie. The morning news said so.”

“Slow down, Ma,” Eddie pleaded. “I know things are bad here but I think that’s why I shouldn’t travel.”

“I knew you should have come back right away,” Sonia continued as if Eddie hadn’t said anything at all. “For all you know, you could have it already. They say symptoms don’t show for at least 10 days. You haven’t been outside, have you? Has Richie? Are you disinfecting everything that enters your place?”

“No, Ma,” Eddie lied. “I haven’t been outside. I feel fine.”

“That’s how it gets you,” Sonia said. “Tom Hanks and his wife didn’t have any symptoms and they still had it. You could still die from this. You never know. What if it comes on soon and you’re there, and I can’t get to you because you know I can’t travel because of my back, and then your asthma comes back and you die. What would happen then when I can’t reach you? Or hold a funeral for you?”

“Ma --”

“Or what if I try to come see you in the hospital,” Sonia continued ranting, “and I catch it while traveling. You know I have a weak immune system and I could easily die from it. Then, you’ll have to live with knowing you put me in harm’s way because you refused to come home to me.”

“Mom!”

Sonia paused, although Eddie could practically see her pursing her lips, displeased that Eddie had interrupted her with anything other than, “I’m booking a flight this instant.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie said. “Richie is fine. I’m not going to Derry because I’m safe here.”

“You know,” Sonia said, and Eddie prepared for the lecture, “I was always against you going to New York. That city is so dirty and filthy. It’s filled to the brim with immorality and people who don’t listen or respect authority. And I think it’s turned you into one of them. What happened to my sweet, little boy? What happened to my son who wanted to see me happy?”

_ He never existed _ , Eddie almost screamed. He was a figment of her imagination that grew up and realized he was more than she ever saw in him. She saw a fragile little boy who lived to please his mother, and when he finally left, he knew he was more than that. In fact, he was never that. He knew he was strong because he stood up to her when she tried to get him to stay in Derry. He knew he was smart and funny and kind.

And he knew what love was supposed to feel like because he knew Richie loved him, and he liked the way he felt, who he was with Richie. When Sonia said she loved him, his stomach dropped because there was always a catch, always a stipulation, always a reminder of what he was supposed to be, and that he was never that.

It clicked. Everything clicked together when his mother spoke, why he had never been happy, why he was scared of being with Richie, of being gay. It wasn’t  _ her  _ plan. In her mind, he was supposed to find a girl, a nice girl, and bring her back to Derry and live down the street from his mother and have ten kids with that nice girl and manage the grocery store or maybe work in Bangor (“Not a bad commute,” he was supposed to remark at the neighborhood barbeques) and be the perfect son she had always imagined. The perfect son that lived to please her.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t perfect, and yet Richie loved him anyway. He wasn’t perfect, and that terrified him because it went against everything  _ she  _ taught him.

“Ma, I’m gay,” Eddie said without thinking. “And I’m in love with Richie, and I’m staying in New York because I’m an adult and I know how to take care of myself. You should worry about your parenting if you don’t think I can take care of myself.”

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, and Eddie feared that she had hung up on him.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she said in a quiet voice. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

This time he was sure that she had hung up on him.

He turned back around, remembering now that Richie was in the room. They were having a conversation about each other, about  _ them _ , a real adult conversation, something Eddie could never seem to have with his mother.

“You good?” Richie ventured when Eddie sent his phone down on the table.

Eddie shrugged. Yet another question he didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m guessing she didn’t take it well,” Richie said carefully.

“No,” Eddie said, tears stinging his eyes. “No, I suppose not.”

Richie didn’t hesitate to move over to Eddie and pull him into a hug. Eddie took in Richie’s warmth, pressing his face into Richie, grateful for the first time in his life that Richie was at least a head taller and able to hold him like this.

But Eddie didn’t want to cry. He didn’t even want to think about his mother longer than he had to.

He pulled back feeling slightly embarrassed, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what to say next. “So, um, where were we?”

“Um, apparently we’re in love,” Richie said casually, or as casually as he could when he was trying to play off what was probably the biggest revelation of his life.

“R-right,” Eddie said, remembering that Richie had mentioned  _ since he was 13 _ . Eddie couldn’t believe it was that long, but now that he thought about it, he always gravitated towards Richie, even before then. Maybe they were born to be in love with each other.

Richie bit his lip. “Let me take you on a date. Like, a real one.”

“How?” was all Eddie could ask.

“Don’t worry your pretty little twunk head about it,” Richie said, finding his groove again. “Just be beautiful and ready to dine at 7.”

Without giving Eddie even a second to respond, Richie ran off to his room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Eddie standing there and trying not to think about the fact that Richie called him “pretty”.

At seven o’ clock on the dot, there was a knock at Eddie’s bedroom door. He had put on nice clothes, or at least, nicer than his usual lazy attire, jeans and a button-up shirt, just like Richie had asked.

He answered the door, and there was Richie, hands behind his back, pretending as though this was a real date scenario and that they weren’t trapped in the apartment.

“You look very handsome tonight,” Eddie commented, noting that Richie’s outfit matched for once, the black ripped jeans, white t-shirt, and denim jacket that Eddie liked a lot.

“Tonight?” Richie asked. “Sounds like you don’t think I’m handsome everyday.”

“Nah,” Eddie replied. “Only tonight.”

“Yikes,” Richie said. “I was going to give you this flower,” Richie pulled an origami flower from behind his back, “but maybe I’ll save it for someone who thinks I’m handsome all the time.”

“You made that?” Eddie said, impressed. He took it from Richie and studied the folds. It looked extremely complicated. Eddie had a hard time when they tried learning how to make cranes the other day but Richie had practically perfected this intricate flower to give to Eddie to give him a genuine date.

“You should see how much paper I wasted,” Richie admitted.

Eddie laughed and carefully set the flower on his dresser before looping his arm through Richie’s.

“I did a lot of thinking,” Richie said, walking extremely slowly down the hall, “about where to take you. And then I thought that maybe we should eat somewhere I know you like.”

They came out into the dining area where Richie had set up a meal for them, lit by candles with a few of the failed origami flowers littering the table around the meal. Soft piano music was playing from Pandora on the TV. Eddie studied the scene, taking in the air of what was supposed to feel like a real restaurant, and not just their dining table.

“Hey, Rich,” Eddie said looking up at Richie.

When Richie turned his head towards Eddie in response, Eddie stood on his toes to kiss Richie, soft and chaste, not longer than a second or two, something to let Richie know how appreciated he was.

Eddie didn’t think he would ever get used to kissing Richie, catching him by surprise and giving him the love he deserved, feeling the love in return when Richie stared back with wide eyes and the tiniest of smiles playing at his lips as he tried to process what just happened.

“So, um,” Richie said trying to push away his nervous energy, and pulling out Eddie’s usual seat at the table, “for you.”

Eddie had been on dates before. He had a girlfriend for the first year at college, so he knew how he was supposed to act. He was supposed to open doors and pull out chairs and pay the bill and offer her your coat when she said she was cold. Eddie was always happy to do it because it made his dates happy too, and when they offered him a kiss in return, he always graciously accepted, but never quite understood why. He was happy to do it for nothing if it meant being nice.

But now he could say why they always wanted to kiss him afterwards.

The simple act of Richie pulling out his chair for him, the smallest of niceties was enough to make Eddie’s heart skip. The fact that Richie was doing it for him, going out of his way  _ for him _ meant the world. If Eddie wasn’t sure he was in love with Richie before tonight, he was sure now.

Eddie sat in his seat and Richie claimed his own, remaining a stuttering, sputtering, nervous wreck the entire night. Eddie thought it was endearing the way Richie went out of his way to make things special and create a date night feast for them, and then couldn’t string two sentences together the entire date because he was so nervous about making sure things were perfect. Eddie couldn’t even get mad that Richie spilled wine all over the table because he spilled it while staring at Eddie.

After dinner, Richie suggested they go for “a walk”, after which, he opened the door to the balcony and gestured for him to step outside. Eddie did and was immediately hit with the brisk March night, chilling him down to his bones.

“Oh,” Richie said stepping up next to him on the tiny balcony that barely served a purpose, “I didn’t realize it was this cold out.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie lied. 

“We can go in,” Richie suggested. “I mean, I had this whole big fucking romantic gesture or whatever the fuck planned, but I can do all that inside.”

“No,” Eddie said, “this is fine. I want to see your romantic gesture.” Although he couldn’t imagine anything better than Richie making him dinner, pretending like it was a real date.

Richie shrugged off his jacket and handed it over to Eddie. “The least I could do is give you my jacket so you don’t catch a cold. I know how you are.”

Eddie put it on, immediately overwhelmed by the size and warmth and the smell of the cologne Eddie gave Richie for Christmas.

“Um,” Richie said, running his fingers along the railing, “I know I said I’ve been in love with you since we were 13, but like, I really meant that, you know. Maybe even longer if I’m being honest, but that summer was when I realized I liked boys and… fuck, this is hard.”

Eddie took Richie’s hand, the one that wouldn’t stop moving, and stepped in close. “You were my gay awakening, which I kind of hate saying but I don’t have a better way to say it. My mom is the worst and getting away from her felt so good, and instead of realizing that I was gay, I shoved myself into a relationship with the first girl that threw herself at me because she was a girl that wasn’t my mom. I really don’t know when I realized I was in love with you, but when I did, I knew that I had been for a long time.”

Richie put a hand on Eddie’s face. “You’re really cute.”

“I know,” Eddie said.

“I’m not good at serious stuff,” Richie said, “but I want to be good at it with you. It’s been a long fucking time since I carved our initials on the kissing bridge and I’m not going to fuck it up.”

“You did what?” Eddie said. “You can’t be serious that the R+E that I saw all the fucking time was you. Do you know how many times I had to pretend I didn’t wish it was you?”

Richie grinned, and leaned down to kiss Eddie. Eddie soaked it up, knowing he could kiss Richie whenever he wanted, they could do whatever they wanted now that everything was out there, no one was hiding from anything any longer.

But Eddie couldn’t escape that feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about sex, that feeling that it was something he wasn’t supposed to do, not with Richie, and he hated that. He hated that because the only thing he wanted right now was to go back inside and forget everything and have sex with Richie.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s neck, holding him close and kissing him deeply as Richie moved his arms around Eddie’s waist, holding him even tighter and closer, like they had been missing each other for years and had only just found each other again.

Eventually they pulled apart, still keeping their arms around each other, but enough so that Eddie could look Richie in the eye.

“This date is the best date I’ve ever been on,” Eddie said.

“Let me walk you home,” Richie said. “You know, like after a date you walk them home, right?”

“So, you’re walking me back to my room?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”

The gears started turning in Eddie’s head, thinking of how to politely ask Richie if they could try again. He let Richie walk him to his room because it made sense in Richie’s grand quarantine date scheme.

“This is where we say good night, right?” Eddie asked.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Richie said, throwing Eddie a wink.

And suddenly Eddie lost himself. He had run through his mind the various ways to get Richie in bed, the way he should kiss him to insinuate that he wanted more, or maybe even just straight up asking him with no grace or subtlety. Richie probably would have thought the latter option the sexiest.

But now, none of that came to him, thinking of nothing but Richie’s proposition as daunting and unimaginable.

He must have stared for too long because Richie began to rescind his statement, growing red and stuttering over his words.

“Uh, I mean,” Richie said scratching the back of his head, “or not, if that’s too much or…”

It must have been Richie's sweet, kind heart, and the way he thought that Eddie might need to take things slow that made Eddie throw his arms around Richie’s neck, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. Richie immediately reciprocated, pushing Eddie against his closed bedroom door, putting his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulling their bodies flush together.

Eddie began feeling around behind him for the doorknob, his fingers closing around it and carefully turning it. He opened the door, and he slowly started backwards, taking Richie with him, the two of them unable to break apart, until he felt his legs hit the edge of his bed, falling backwards and laying down with Richie on top of him.

Eddie didn’t let himself think about last night when he began panicking when they were in this same exact position. The only thing he let himself think about was Richie’s hot mouth against his, Richie’s tongue inside his mouth, Richie’s hands grabbing his ass, Richie’s body weighing him down.

Eddie’s hands found their way under Richie’s shirt, palming at his back. Eddie couldn’t help the moan that escaped when Richie pressed himself even harder between Eddie’s legs.

Richie pulled back, and Eddie was almost embarrassed when he actually  _ whined _ .

“Is this okay?” Richie asked. “I don’t want you to freak out again.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, nodding his head excitedly. “You’re good, sweetheart.” He moved a hand to Richie’s head, running his fingers through Richie’s hair as he leaned into the touch.

“Just making sure,” Richie said. “You can tell me to stop whenever cause I know you’ve never…” Richie trailed off, unable to name it.

“Cause I’ve never had sex,” Eddie finished for him. “It’s fine, Richie. I trust you.” 

Richie leaned back down and kissed Eddie again, sweet and slow, taking his time, before standing up, leaving Eddie on the bed.

Eddie scooted back so that his legs weren’t hanging over the edge anymore, taking off Richie’s jacket and tossing it off to the side while Richie hesitated.

“How do you want to do this?” Richie asked.

Richie was good, Eddie decided. Richie was what Eddie needed, and had been desiring for way too long, and here he was, double, triple checking everything to make sure Eddie was okay. It was sweet, but also kind of annoying. In a good way he was annoying. In a cute way he was annoying.

“Richie,” Eddie said smiling, “I know you want to make sure things are okay, and that’s very sweet of you, so I don’t know what to tell you other than I want you to fuck me into tomorrow.”

The words felt strange and foreign coming out of Eddie’s mouth, which seemed even more odd when he remembered that he dated a girl for almost a year, during what was supposed to be the horniest year of his life, and yet they never even came close to having sex or talking about it longer than deciding to wait. Eddie should have realized he was gay a lot sooner than he did.

He really liked talking to Richie like that. That didn’t take that long to figure out at all.

“So,” Eddie said starting to unbutton his shirt, thankful he decided against an undershirt, “take off your clothes, and get over here and fuck me.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s, uh, really fucking hot, Eds.” He pulled his shirt over his head and stripped out of his jeans before crawling on the bed in only his underwear and helping Eddie tear off the rest of his clothes.

When Eddie had successfully taken off his shirt and pants, he fell back on the bed, and Richie reclaimed his place on top of Eddie, kissing him, pressing his hard cock against Eddie’s thigh. 

Richie’s entire body was pressed against Eddie’s, his warm, slick skin under Eddie’s hands as he felt up and down Richie’s back, testing his own confidence by slowly slipping his hands into Richie’s underwear and grabbing his ass.

Richie began kissing Eddie’s neck, slowly moving down to his chest, biting, teething at the marks he didn’t quite finish making the night before.

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie moaned.

Richie removed himself from Eddie’s chest with a pop. “I’m trying, baby.”

“You’re stupid,” Eddie said as Richie continued kissing and mouthing Eddie’s body. Eddie was almost surprised he wasn’t panicking, the only bit of anxiety coming from being inexperienced with sex and wanting to please Richie. But none of it to do with the uncertainty of them, or of Eddie’s life, or anything else. Richie was all his, and he couldn’t imagine being nervous over that.

Richie kept working his way down, further and further, and Eddie knew what he wanted to do. Richie looked up at Eddie one last time as if asking permission, and when Eddie didn’t stop him, Richie pulled Eddie’s underwear down just enough to pull his dick out, hard and red and dripping in anticipation.

Eddie rested his head, looking up at the ceiling, waiting for Richie to take him in, but what he didn’t expect was for Richie to run his tongue up Eddie’s length, teasing him and making him impatient, hungry for more.

“God, Rich,” Eddie said.

As if that was his cue, Richie took Eddie in, wrapping his lips around the head of Eddie’s cock, slowly swallowing him while Eddie gripped at the sheets letting out a loud moan in the process. Eddie moved a hand to Richie’s hair, desperate for that contact, careful not to grip his hair as tight as the sheets, but still Richie groaned as Eddie tightened his hold, and went further in.

Eddie had never felt this kind of attention, the way Richie’s tongue and hot mouth felt, Richie’s tight hold on Eddie’s thighs, how Richie was only thinking about Eddie.

Eddie thought he had played things cool until this point, taking things slow and pretending like he knew what he was doing, or at least, he was pretty good at figuring it out, but Richie was really good at sucking cock, and Eddie wasn’t sure how much longer he would last.

“Richie, I’m…” Eddie tried to say.

Richie pulled away. “Slow down, baby. We haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”

Richie finished pulling off Eddie’s underwear, and almost went to take his off before he remembered something. He went back up to kiss Eddie again before getting up.

“I’ll be right back,” Richie said. “Don’t you dare finish without me.”

Eddie had to admit it was awkward waiting there for Richie, and unfortunately it gave him time to think about the implications of what was happening. Richie Tozier had just had Eddie’s dick in his mouth, and Eddie liked it. Eddie liked it because Richie was good at it. Eddie liked the way Richie knew what he was doing, which, although made his dick ache for more, gave him a nervous shot of adrenaline because Richie knew what he was doing because he had done this before. With someone else.

What if Eddie couldn’t live up to that? What if Eddie wasn’t everything Richie had been dreaming about? There was always the possibility that that’s all this was: a dream.

Richie returned in less than a minute with a condom and lube, another reminder that Richie had these things ready to go.

Richie peeled off his underwear, and Eddie didn’t know if he could put away his fears and insecurities, but he could ogle Richie. He wasn’t sure if he could live up to everything Richie expected, but he knew that right now, he belonged to Richie, and Richie to him. He could stare all he wanted at Richie’s wide shoulders, his slowly growing chubby stomach, the hair from his chest down his stomach all the way to his dick.

And Eddie could stare at Richie’s dick all day long.

Eddie’s eyes snapped back up, an unconscious movement from years of not being able to look, but he thanked that old habit that let him catch Richie staring just as much as Eddie was.

Richie knelt on the bed between Eddie’s legs, and leaned over him, kissing him again. Eddie’s cock twitched with excitement as Richie’s rubbed against his, as Richie’s gentle tongue led its way through Eddie’s mouth.

Richie pulled back, looking Eddie deep in the eye. “Are you sure you want to do this? You look nervous.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I want to.”

Richie nodded in return, and squeezed some lube into his hand. He kissed Eddie again, before moving to kiss Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s hand found its way into Richie’s hair, gently carding through while Richie began working a spot, biting and teething at it, while a soft hand felt its way up Eddie’s thigh and in between his legs.

Eddie let out a loud moan when Richie slipped a finger inside him, and tightened his grip on Richie’s hair, who in turn, bit Eddie’s neck even harder. Richie moved his finger inside Eddie, stretching him out slowly, and Eddie thought he could finish with just this, especially as he began thinking about when he would be able to do it to Richie. Eddie loved Richie’s weight on top of him, but he remembered sitting in Richie’s lap, straddling him, being in charge, and Eddie liked that too.

Richie slipped a second finger in, scissoring Eddie who couldn’t believe that he started purring, and apparently, neither could Richie.

“I’ll take it I’m doing something right,” Richie said into Eddie’s ear.

Eddie, still with his hands in Richie’s hair, yanked him up to kiss him again, hot and sloppy and nothing but tongue, while Richie put a third finger inside Eddie. Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. He was sure he was going to come any minute if Richie didn’t stick it inside him, and he was not about to come before Richie even started fucking him.

“God,” Eddie moaned into Richie’s mouth. “Fuck me already.”

Richie sat up onto his knees, pulling his fingers out of Eddie, much to Eddie’s distaste. “You’re so impatient.”

Richie opened the condom and put it on. He spread Eddie’s legs even further, pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s ass, teasing and testing the waters before pushing in. Eddie let out his most embarrassing sound yet as Richie slowly pushed in farther, tightly gripping Eddie’s hips.

Feeling Richie inside him was like a dream, the feeling of his hard cock sliding in, rubbing him from the inside. But it wasn’t all of Richie. Eddie needed all of him.

“Richie,” Eddie pleaded, “more.”

Richie adopted a smug grin. “You think you can handle it, baby?”

“Just fuck me, Richard.”

“Yes, sir.”

And with that, Richie thrust in the rest of the way, and Eddie scrambled for the sheets, biting down on his lip hard to stifle his moans. Eddie moved with Richie as he thrust back and forth, rubbing, pressing inside of Eddie. He could feel Richie’s cock growing, throbbing inside of him, desperate to touch himself but unable to unlatch his hands from the sheets.

Richie must have noticed because he grabbed Eddie’s dick, and said, “You’re so fucking hot, Eds.” He started pumping, slowly, in time with his thrusts, and Eddie couldn’t hold it any longer. “You can come, Eddie. Come for me.”

Eddie felt a shudder through his body as he came, the release giving him a sense of euphoria as Richie continued thrusting, once, twice, three times more until he felt Richie’s own release inside him, almost enough to get him hard again.

Richie slowly pulled out and took off the condom, leaning over Eddie and kissing him softly before flopping over to lay next to him on the bed. All Eddie could think to do was continue staring at the ceiling, waiting for the post-orgasm high to wear down enough for him to get up and shower, but until then he would have to sit in his sweat and come.

He didn’t like the feeling of that, and immediately tried to sit up, only to be pulled back down by the exhaustion in his gut.

“Took it out of you, eh?” Richie asked with his signature grin. “I mean, are you good?”

“Fine,” was the only word Eddie could find.

“Just fine?” Richie pressed. “But I mean, was it… was I…?”

Eddie turned his head towards Richie who was already looking at him. Richie looked worried, like he had done something wrong and was waiting for Eddie to point it out and reprimand him.

“You were really good,” Eddie said, smiling slightly. “Like, so good, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” But there was something else weighing on Eddie, something that didn’t have a word he could place. He liked sex, loved it with Richie, but something unsettled him.

“But you’re thinking,” Richie noted. “I know your thinking face.”

“It’s not you,” Eddie said quickly to console Richie, but that seemed to do the opposite.

“And now you’re giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech,” Richie said.

“No!” Eddie said. “Fuck, I mean, I love you and I love sex and sex with you and - and - and no one ever told me it was supposed to be a good thing.”

Richie stared at him for a second. “What is? Sex?”

Eddie wasn’t even sure what he meant by what he said. Something was wrong and Eddie was sure it was his inability to judge things for himself. His entire life he had been told what to do, where to go, but no one ever told him that he should be having sex, that sex was good and fun and enjoyable, so Eddie never thought about it, not until he wanted Richie.

“Yeah, I think,” Eddie said. “I don’t know. I guess I never thought about how much I could want something until I wanted you. And now I’m scared I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t,” Richie said without hesitation. “I love you, too, Eddie. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie placed a kiss on Richie’s shoulder finding it difficult to move any further to kiss him on the lips, but it felt right all the same.

“Alright,” Richie finally said sitting up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Eddie sat up too, still exhausted and starting to feel a burn in his legs. “I think a shower would be helpful.” He got out of bed and made his way to the door, feeling strangely embarrassed to be naked in front of Richie despite what they had just done, but that was something he’d have to get used to. “If you wanna join me.”

They took a quick shower together, something Eddie wasn’t sure he was ready for and maybe was a little uncomfortable for him but he was done being afraid of being intimate, of having that close relationship with someone, of the simple act of existing with Richie. He had himself shower with Richie because they had only just had sex and this should have been a step down, and like everything Eddie was forcing himself into lately, he really liked it. He liked the close quarters and the hot water running over both of them, and he especially liked Richie pretending like he was helping Eddie soap up when it was only an excuse to touch his wet, slick body.

Eddie could have spent the rest of the night in the shower, but it had to end sometime, and when they got out, Richie stuttered over asking to sleep in Eddie’s bed, something Eddie had assumed would happen, that didn’t need permission. But Eddie should have guessed. Richie had spent all night making sure Eddie was okay. Of course, he would continue to ask, even for something so simple.

Richie went to his room for a second to grab some sweatpants to sleep in while Eddie threw on a pair of shorts, and slowly, carefully, as if it would combust, picked up Richie’s shirt off the floor. He pressed it to his face, taking in the smell of Richie, and then put it on before getting into bed.

Richie joined him only a minute later, tentatively slipping into bed as the two of them still fumbled over their feelings and how to communicate them. Richie lied back on the bed and Eddie turned on his side, leaning over him, scooting close and pressing their bodies flush together. Richie slipped an arm underneath Eddie, placing a gentle hand on his back while Eddie remained propped on his elbow, his other hand tracing circles on Richie’s chest.

He leaned down and gently kissed Richie.

“So,” Richie said after Eddie pulled away, “we’re like, boyfriends now, right?”

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, I think so.”

“And you’re not scared of that?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Rich,” Eddie said softly, “I’m terrified. But I can’t keep being scared if I want to be happy. I really like you and I loved tonight and I can’t let myself be scared because I think having you is worth being scared sometimes.”

“For what it’s worth,” Richie said, “you were worth the wait.”

Eddie heart flipped, and he didn’t think it would ever stop, so instead he tried to deflect it into humor. Richie would know what that meant.

“So, it sounds like I’m the one wearing the pants in this relationship, huh?”

“Baby,” Richie said, and Eddie knew he lost before Richie said it. “I’d rather neither of us be wearing pants in this relationship.”

Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s chest, groaning loudly. Richie’s chest shook with laughter and one of his hands carded through Eddie’s hair.

“If you can’t take it,” Richie said, “don’t dish it out.”

Eddie went to look at Richie, still resting his chin on Richie’s chest, giving him the usual scowl. All Richie did was smile and continue running his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

“You’re really cute,” Richie said.

Eddie had no choice but to kiss him over that.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I mention that originally I projected this fic to be less than 5k words? Because idk what happened from then to now.
> 
> Anyway hope everyone is dealing with quarantine okay and I could provide a little comfort in that time.
> 
> If any of you want to hit me up and talk about my fic or reddie or anything in general, you can find me on [tumblr](https://the-u-s-s-enterprise.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/iheartsharkey) <3


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